Tag: story

Last weekend I was catching up on a couple episodes of Jane the Virgin, the amazingly exaggerated CW telenovela, when I was struck by how much I related to the usually over-dramatic show. ‘Chapter Seventy-Five’ centred around the concept of “re-framing”, a narrative device that uses previously withheld information to reshape the context of the plot. In Jane’s storyline, the episode focused on re-framing her relationship with old flame Jonathan Chavez, her hot graduate professor that she almost lost her virginity to. This episode really struck a nerve with me, dredging up emotions I’ve been wrestling with the past few months and rousing me from a 2.5 month blogging stupor. Jane, and her complex relationship with Chavez so articulately encapsulate everything I feel toward Mr. Man. So to borrow a page from Jane’s own playbook, I’ll be using her story to re-frame how I’ve been feeling in mine. Meta…I know.

Scene One:

Jane needs a job, which leads her to message Chavez asking for an introduction to a professor who is currently hiring. Rightfully so, she feels tentative about reigniting things, re-writing her email to him over and over to ensure she’s portraying the right message of easy, breezy, and unbothered by the shitty end to
their relationship.

Cut-to: Me trying to compose work emails to Mr. Man that are friendly without being flirty, polite yet professional, but not like I’m trying to intentionally be so. Our ending may have been a little different from Jane’s (she cried before a hook up, while we just stopped talking) but nonetheless, the same awkward, unresolved tones hang in the air in both cases. Honestly, I’m sure that I’ve written university papers that are less edited than some of my responses to Mr. Man.

Scene Two:

Jane manages to overcome her email communication hurdles and reconnects with Chavez, just in time to learn that he’s seeing another student. She stalks him a bit online only to see that this pattern has happened not once, twice, but at least four other times…ouch.

Cut-to: Me finding out from a friend at work (Margaret) that Mr. Man has a rather widespread reputation for hitting up young girls in the office. Nice huh? This new-found information made the whole situation seem incredibly icky and I couldn’t help but feel like it was a reflection of my own optimistic naivety, where I somehow thought that I was *shudders* something special. Maggie & I agree that it’s possible that I was to some degree based on what he’s shared with me, but it doesn’t matter either way. Finding out about this pattern basically invalidated all of my feelings and made me realize that at best I am just a rainbow chip in a larger chocolate chip cookie…damn, now I’m depressed and hungry.

Scene Three:

Jane explains the situation to Raf in the quintessential intersection of her storyline and mine, sharing how she (and I) felt in two succinct sentences:

Jane: “I didn’t feel like he took advantage of me, at the time. I had a huge crush on him and I went after him. But knowing that he slept with all these other grad students, it just reframes everything.”

Raf: ”You should report him.”

Jane: “For what? He’s not Marissa’s advisor. I checked. And there’s no clear university policy.”

Raf: “Well there should be, those are some intense power dynamics.”

Swap out Jane for me and Raf for Maggie and I SWEAR I’ve had almost this exact conversation. While I don’t think that Mr. Man has ever ventured as far as Chavez, the parallels are still apparent. I didn’t feel like anything was wrong with his attention because I was really into it, I let him know I was open to something and was not innocent prey by any means. But knowing that he may have tried to pull the same thing with others is so disheartening, as is the realization that what I deemed to be ok behaviour really wasn’t, it just seemed that way because I was drunk on hormones.

So, should I report him? I’ve thought about it…but what would I report? Clearly he’s well-practiced in tip-toeing the line, making sure to push his bounds while never doing anything I could overtly point to at the end of the day. Thiss tactical approach only shows me how well-versed he truly is at this game, definitely upping the ick factor.

I feel as if the notion of power dynamics is one that becomes even more exaggerated in a business context. This is because in a literal sense some positions are just more powerful than others, a notion that isn’t groundbreaking by any means. However, on a more nuanced level, men in powerful positions also seem to have an inflated sense of self-importance, as if their role somehow points to having a higher status level overall. I can’t definitively claim that Mr. Man’s role at work made him feel as if he could treat me like a play thing with no feelings. But as the ‘feelingless play thing’ in this particular circumstance, it sure as hell seems that way.

So shout out to Raf for saying it best…those really were some intense power dynamics. Really what else was I to do in that situation…Be rude? I had no reason to think that he was being anything but genuine and only looking back does the game become more clear. From the moment he bought me a drink at the bar I was indebted to him to some degree. He always got our bills, made me feel special (*shudders* there it is again) and even recommended me for another job, making me feel like I should be grateful for his attention and cleverly masquerading whether or not I was being manipulated. He’s mindfucked me to the point that even now I feel absurd writing this blog post when “nothing” has really happened…but “nothing”doesn’t bother you for months after, so it’s time to put to rest the notion that this fabrication was created all on my own.

The last thing I will say is that I am so grateful that Jane the Virgin, which sounds like campy show about sex, tackled an issue as difficult as the power imbalances between men and women. While I never thought I was the only person to experience something like this, it was comforting seeing my own experiences articulated so clearly, and helped me re-frame those 6 months for what they really were: an inflated fantasy of an office romance constructed by trashy rom-coms, my own optimism and most of all, by Mr. Man.

If you’ve been reading my posts lately you’d know that I was in San Francisco last week and definitely not behaving myself, which makes for the best blog content (if I do say so myself). And if you’ve been reading along, you’d know that I’d been on a pub crawl the night before, meeting tons of new people all with the same thing on their mind: hooking up.

At bar two on the pub crawl, I met Señor San Fran, a tall, dark and handsome glass of water from Mexico (lol, yes I’m a huge tool) who sang me Happy Birthday and bought endless rounds of drinks. I’d never hooked up with a Latin guy before, but was definitely interested in getting chipotlaid and liked his vibe. We exchanged numbers and apparently he’d tried to message me that night, but a lack of service on my end had different plans. The next day I saw an undelivered text to an unknown number in my phone and messaged it via WhatsApp like the 21st century thirst trap I am.

Well, I’m glad I did because on my last night in San Fran I hit the bars HARD with Señor SF, Charlotte, and a couple friends we’d made along the way. After a long night of beer olympics, a Dancehall club and a house party in the middle of nowhere, we ended up together on a bench outside my dorm . The time was 3 in the morning and I had to leave for the airport at 5 am, but despite being so tired that I couldn’t formulate sentences I was determined to get a goodbye kiss.

Eventually he leans in and plants one on my cheek of all places…My facial expression, which must’ve read something like “Dafaq”, prompted him to say “That was super lame wasn’t it”. I nod and he reaches under my chin and pulls me in for a real freaking kiss. I mean, DAMN. Fireworks people.

From there things went from 0 – 100 real quick. He asks if I want to go to the shower down the hall (the same shower from the night before I might add…for SHAME Samantha) and I say “yes” unsure how to tell him that I have already fornicated in that room and would prefer to desecrate a new location. Again, hooking up in hostels is HARD.

Compared to the night before, which was rushed and intense, this was soft and slow…but equally, if not more, awesome. You know what they say about Latin lovers amirite? In fact, I didn’t even realize how hot it really was until some guy yelled at us to shut up…I’ve never really been one for discretion….Sarrrrry.

After getting dressed and saying our goodbyes I went back to my dorm to grab Charlotte and our suitcases…it was time to go to the airport.

I may not have gotten much sleep that night but it was well worth it, and texting him back and forth since then hasn’t been half bad either. I guess I took the phrase “ending with a bang” to a whole new level this trip and couldn’t have asked for a better end to an already incredible vacation. Damn, between Monsieur Formidable last year and now UK Bae/Señor SF, I’m clearly spending my birthdays travelling the world more than just geographically, if you now what I mean 😉

Making noise in the bedroom is usually gratifying for both parties. When you hear a moan escape from your partner’s lips, you know you’re doing something right.

Unfortunately, some people take it out of hand. I’ve categorized these people into:

(1) Screamers
(2) Chatter-boxes
(3) Excessive moaners

The screamer is someone who sounds like they’re being ripped apart when they orgasm. They’re not just loud when they’re close to climaxing but rather release a shrill like yell, the type you hear in horror movies when someone just got caught by the murderer.

I lived with a screamer once. I thought I was home alone until I heard someone yell at the top of their lungs. I lunged for a kitchen knife because I thought someone broke into my apartment and killed my roommate. NOPE, just an orgasm.

The chatter-box can take one of two forms. The first is the overly-concerned chatter-box. This is the person who will repeatedly ask “do you like that?”. It’s important to be courteous to your partner but if I’m enjoying myself, shut up. The second is the dirty-talk chatter box. Some people may enjoy dirty talk, but everything has its limits. I’m comfortable with a few comments here and there but if you keep talking you’re going to ruin the mood. Like sir, we’re banging you’re not reading me erotica.

Recently, I encountered my favourite moaner. I have labeled this type the “oh no’s”.

I bumped into a guy I knew from undergrad a few weeks ago. We started chatting about a project we worked on together in school and how I was kind of a bitch because I was super keen. After reminiscing for a while we swapped numbers and said we’d catch up over drinks later that week.

Going for drinks, I had no idea whether this was a date or just two friends catching up. My plan was to go grab a couple drinks then go to a friend’s birthday party and have an early night.

Things didn’t quite play out as planned.

We met up for drinks at a really low-key place. We ended up really hitting it off. After a few hours of hanging out a couple of his friends came to join us at the bar. I mentioned my friend’s birthday and they took it as an invitation to join. So we all made our way to the next bar and continued to drink. Four beers and a gin-and-tonic later, this guy and I are making out on the dance floor like we’re first years at a frat-party.

Everything was going well and I was having a lot of fun with him. When he asked me to come back to his place, it only seemed natural to accept this invitation.

When we started fooling around I immediately had a flash back to that scene in Trainwreck where Amy Schumer is having sex with that really jacked guy and is just so not into it. At that moment I empathised with Amy.

This guy used to play football so he was pretty muscular. Unfortunately, while having sex there were points where he’d put all his weight on me. Having 180lbs crushing you isn’t really “sexy”. Not ideal but at this point I’m thinking it could only get better from there, right?

Wrong.

As I’m finally kind of getting into to it, I hear the words “oh yeah” escape his lips.

I’m thinking, okay… cool… guess I’m doing something right. Then I heard it again… and again… and again. This man was repeating the words “oh yeah” the entire fucking time.

There was a massive human being on top of me, closed eyes, and just repeating the phrase “oh yeah” while I lay silent and stunned. Was this man for real? Once the shock washed away the next step was not letting laughter escape me.

Like I was a participant in these activities. I could say from first-hand experience that it was not “oh yeah” worthy, much closer to “mmmm kay”. You’re not a god bud, you are a mere mortal with an average dong.

FFS this post is delayed. Though unintended I have taken 2.5 months to get this sucker out…As such, here’s a little #TBT for your Thursday afternoon….

It was an ordinary November afternoon when I received a Snapchat message from good ole’ Boston Boy (upgraded to Boston Babe), my super sweet fling from the summer who took me to baseball games and held my hand at the dinner table. It said: “Hey, do you know any good places to eat in downtown Toronto?” I laughed to myself, realizing that this was exactly how he’d started our very first tinder convo (yes, I have that good a memory). I was in the middle of a drrrry spell…one that actually started when B-Boy left Toronto back in August. Work was out of control busy, I was studying for a grad school entrance exam, and had a general apathy toward dating of any kind, so ya, I didn’t hesitate setting up our date.

We agreed to meet at his hotel and I showed up nervous and excited. After all, I hadn’t seen the guy in almost 3 months and couldn’t even remember if I thought he was cute. He ended up getting stuck at work so I decided to make the best of the situation and grabbed a glass of wine and a seat at the bar. I ended up chatting to the guy at the stool next to me (don’t get the wrong idea, he was well over 50) and had a pretty hilarious time. I felt a little like the star of my own version of “Pretty Woman”, trying to set up a client while waiting for another to arrive. The gentleman asked if I was staying in the hotel, to which I replied: “Nope just visiting a friend” just as Boston Babe showed up, looking way cuter than I remembered I may add. I struggled to find my credit card and pay for the drink only looking up when the bartender yelled “THAT WAS THE SMOOTHEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN”. Always considerate, my Boston Babe had subtly paid the tab and grabbed my stuff. All I could do was muster a quiet “thank you” and grab his hand before heading straight for the elevators.

The rest of the night was honestly amazing. We hooked up, ate pizza in bed, hot-tubbed, hooked up, watched a movie, slept, and again hooked up. It was as if we picked up right where we let off and quickly transitioned from ‘what’ve you been up to’ pleasantries to meaningful conversation. I left the next morning, after enjoying a complimentary hotel breakfast, feeling elated and excited to see him again. Oh! and I mustn’t forget that the gentleman from the bar the night before turned up again, this time sitting across from me as I ate toast and scrambled eggs, while I kept my blushing cheeks pointed to my plate.

Fast forward a few weeks and I am in a full-on ‘fling-lationship’. I dub this term to explain the otherwise uncategorically expressed phenomenon: I was 100% in a relationship for a very defined period of time. We texted, ate meals together, talked about our days, and spent a lot of time together. By the last week of his trip I had definitely grown attached, more than to just having someone in my life but to him as well. We went skating one night and as he held my hands and skated backwards, guiding us around the rink I couldn’t help but think: “Why does he have to leeeeaaaveeee”. I was so happy to continue doing what we were doing that I couldn’t help but feel slighted to have found someone I get along with so well when he happens to live in another country. A country with a president like Trump no less.

We had some very deep life chats over the course of a couple weeks, even getting into our pasts and relationship deal breakers which is something I rarely share with my male companions. I admitted mine is overemotional guys…ya, I’m pretty callous…hence my hesitance to share. It turned out I needn’t worry, as his exes always complained that he didn’t open up and was too emotionally reserved…Well no wonder we friggen got along so well! I don’t like to talk about feelings with the guy I’m dating and he doesn’t like to talk about feelings. period.

Well, while our mutual fear of intimacy made for a perfect fling, it also made it kind of hard to understand if the feelings I was developing were real. By the end of his trip my mind had turned into a broken record “Should I say how I feel? Could he feel the same way? Am I asking to be rejected by a guy who admittedly doesn’t open up??” I continued this one-woman game of ‘relationship chicken’, torn between taking a risk or letting this great guy just pass me by until it was suddenly our last night together and I still hadn’t said anything. You’d think I’d be capable of uttering a simple “Hey, I like you and I’d actually give this a shot…what do you think?”, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Despite my overwhelming cowardice we had a great night. Well, no…Let me clarify. I had a perfectly good night but he was clearly VERY off…to this day I don’t know what was wrong but he didn’t enjoy the physical part of our relationship in the same way he had throughout all the time we’d spent together prior. Maybe he was also playing relationship chicken and was more wrapped up in his thoughts than in my embrace? Maybe he had a rough day at work? Who knows. I

left the next morning knowing that it’d be the last time I saw him. Whether or not he felt the way I did one thing was clear: neither of us had the balls to turn this into anything real and without someone stepping up to the plate we’d go down in history as the greatest potential relationship never to reach the major leagues.

We had a great time together and while losing him stung a bit, I was over it after a couple days and quickly dove back into work, studying and not giving a fuck about dating. I won’t be the type of girl always at someone else’s beck and call, so if he ever came back to T.O., single or not, our fling-lationship would remain safely where it belongs: on my blog.

I used to think that girls and guys could be just friends. I really did! I’ve had many guy friends in the past and am 100% comfortable bro-ing out. Hell, sometimes I NEED the testosterone in my life to balance out particularly dramatic periods of time. But I have finally accepted that in any very close male-female relationship, it is not possible to always be “just friends”. In fact, to quote my fave relationship guru and fellow DTT6 author Rachel Green, a guy and girl can only actually be friends if they both successfully pass the “Do I like this person” hurdle at least some point in the relationship. Why I bring this up you might ask? Well, for the second time in my life I have had my best and closest guy friend admit to having feelings for me and for the second time in my life I had to give up on a friendship that has been ruined by sex – or in these cases, a lack thereof.

Quick background on me: I lost my virginity to my best friend in Grade 12, told him I liked him only as a friend, lost that friendship, realized I liked him a year later, dated for a year, broke up in what can only be described as world war 3, and hooked up on and off for almost 2 years until that went down in flames. If our breakup was world war 3 then the finality of our relationship was world war Z, and the carnage was epic on both ends. I decimated that friendship and almost 5 years after our initial breakup the wound has not properly healed. Safe to say I’m pretty sensitive when it comes to the treacherous waters where emotion meets friendship.

Despite this, I got very close to one of my male co-workers when starting at my current job. We don’t have much in common in terms of interests but for some reason we just click. Over the last year and a half we have gotten incredibly close, spending time together outside of work constantly and ingratiating each other in our respective lives. He’s facetimed with my family, I’ve gone for dinner with him and his dad and as time went on the lines between us grew increasingly blurry. Nonetheless, it never seemed like a problem worth addressing..I didn’t think of him him that way and didn’t think about how he felt about me.

Cut to – August 2016 when this great friend of mine turned into a compete a-hole. Seemingly overnight my closest male ally had become my enemy, acting distant and insulting at every turn. He pushed me away and I just didn’t understand why.

Never one to shy away from conflict I confronted him, at work mind you, and asked WTF was up. Honestly, I thought he was going to tell me he had feelings for our DTT6 resident Miranda and was absolutely FLABBERGASTED when he instead admitted to having feelings for me. I was shocked, confused, and a tiny bit flattered. His feelings ran quite a bit deeper than a crush, and his hurtful behaviour stemmed from an inability to balance our friendship with how he felt.After a very uncomfortable convo where I had to straight up tell this great guy that I was not into him we left the office in separate directions, me understanding what I did to piss him off (answer: not love him back) and him needing some space from our friendship.

I am not so naive to think this never would have happened. Tons of my friends had previously asked what was up, either believing he was into me or otherwise gay, so I was really the only one surprised by this news.The only explanation that I can provide is it’s a likely combo of denial and wishful thinking. I never would’ve wanted to hurt him or our friendship, so I pretended the notion of us as being an “us” didn’t exist for as long as I could.

But now everything was out in the open and I totally respected the need for distance. I went about my days as typically as possible, patiently hoping things would rectify themselves. And like most things do, our relationship eventually did go back to normal. We talked more, hung out, and I just assumed that his feelings had passed. “Maybe he was confusing closeness with intimacy and never even really liked me like that” I told myself this and honestly, I believed it. After a little while I didn’t even think about that 2 hour conversation that left us both without a best friend. The facetimes returned, the dinners too and I thought we’d made it past the hurdle Rachel so eloquently mentioned at the beginning of this post. In fact, we got even CLOSER if that’s possible and spent every waking minute together, at work and outside as well. He became my “emotional boyfriend” and while I definitely saw the danger in that I ignored it. He made me feel happy, secure and cared for without having the pressure to define anything because we already had a definition: Friends. At this point I actually did think about what it’d be like to be with him in a more romantic way, and it just wasn’t there for me.

Then came the holidays, a hard time for all single people. After a very boozy holiday party we ended up back at my place with two other friends. While they chilled in the main room we went to my bedroom to roll a joint. We were standing by my dresser chopping the weed when he looked over and leaned in #StonerRelationshipGoals. Honestly, this couldn’t have been more perfectly choreographed if it was intended for television but as he leaned in I leaned out, narrowly missing his kiss.

(I am soooo not proud of my next few moments but they happened so I may as well be honest). Though I rejected him pretty blatantly, I was very flirty the rest of the night, even telling him “You don’t need to regret it” when he said he didn’t feel badly about making a move because the moment felt right. Ya, I was being a huge tease and an even huge-r asshole, but I wasn’t really thinking and maybe enjoying the attention a little too much.

The next day I invited him to brunch with my roommate and acted like nothing happened. 3 days later I went to South Africa for a 2-week trip. We spoke often while I was away so I just assumed we’d had a weird moment but had gotten past it. But when I went back to work nothing was the same. Fun and comfortable had been replaced by tense and forced and I was so confused. I didn’t even think about the almost-kiss as being the cause, the incident living deep in my long-term memory and clouded by 2 weeks of sun. Things became progressively more tense and I progressively more upset. How were we at this place again? I didn’t think he could possibly like me because he was always talking about other girls, or maybe this is just what I was telling myself.

We reached a boiling point at my roommate’s birthday, where even his best GUY friend admitted that the tension was palpable. I texted him the next morning saying things had felt off for a while and we couldn’t put off a conversation any longer. Apparently my timing was less than impeccable as he was heading to Florida for a week, so we promised to talk when he came back. A week goes by and he comes back to work on what turned out to be a horrible, HORRIBLE day for me. Separate from our issues, I had some pretty serious personal stuff going on, and he ended up passing me dashing out of the office mid-panic attack. Without me even explaining anything more than “I can’t deal right now, this is too much”, we went for a walk and he let me utter panicky nonsense on repeat for 20 minutes. Knowing we still had to talk he said he’d wait till things calmed down and made sure to check in days later to see how I was doing.

We finally had our talk. He told me that he isn’t over me and had been thinking about making a move long before the night he leaned in for the almost-kiss. I guess I hadn’t realized how far back our issues extended because I was away (or ignoring the signs). What really gets me is he admitted to intentionally waiting and acting cool while I was away because he wanted me to enjoy my trip…he was always putting me and my feelings first. Since I’ve been back it’s become too hard to be just friends and he doesn’t know if I can be in his life the way I want to be right now. Again, I totally understand, but this time it’s much harder. Maybe it was a result of all the other things I’m dealing with at the moment, maybe it’s because I wish we’d work out because who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend. I honestly don’t know.

What I do know is that all the weirdness fell away when he saw how upset I was at work and was still there for me in spite of how hard it was for him, and this realization broke my heart a little. He truly put me first, even before himself, and when I thanked him for his support I broke down into tears, something I’ve never done in front of him. You know what his response was? “You being real and vulnerable right now only makes me like you more”…needless to say if my heart wasn’t broken before, it was after that.

After this we sat around not saying much. Neither of us wanted to leave because we knew this was the last time we’d be just the two of us for a long while. It’s not fair to him to stay so close to me and it sucks for me to have to let him go, but what can I do? I let this happen by getting into a pseudo-relationship and now I need to deal with that. When he hugged me goodbye I felt him hold me in a way that was tragically final and way too reminiscent of an actual breakup, and it was painful.

So now we’re not friends.

We’re not in a relationship.

We’re taking space and I had to tell this guy not once, but twice, “I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way” (But I kinda wish I did).

You may be thinking: “Gasp! Oh no you di’int…How dare you desecrate the good name of Mindy Lahiri: OB-GYN, Sass Queen and spirit animal to millennial women everywhere!”

Well dear followers, I certainly di’id and someone had to say it. Now I know that Mindy is #goals, she’s smart, sassy, and hero to us all. (Clearly I’m girl crushing. Hard.)

While this is all true and I love The Mindy Project for so many reasons, our favourite Indian Gyno is also a Total. Lying. Betch. The woman who we look to as a guide through the treacherous waters of modern dating is really just reinforcing romantic tropes and unrealistic expectations for our relationships! What do I mean, you may ask? Well, let’s start with the ways in which Mindy meets men.

I mean, I have NEVER met a cute guy on…

…the subway

…at my office

…the office next to mine

…on an airplane

…or again on the FRIGGEN SUBWAY!!!

Like, are there really this many single hotties hanging around waiting to be met in NYC? Because if so I have got to get out of the 6ix ASAP!

Maybe it’s just my current life stage that people aren’t looking to meet “The One”. There certainly are enough hot men walking around the financial district to satisfy one women, but how do you start talking to them as you pass by? I have eye-banged an embarrassingly large number of men as we’ve crossed paths, but starting an actual conversation in a natural and endearing way is extremely hard. I mean, COME ON, there is actually a dating app that lets you talk ONLINE to someone you’ve passed IN PERSON. Wtf is that about Happn?

Back to the matter at hand.

If a young, fun, professional female in relatively good shape wants to meet a guy outside of the online dating world, how does she do it? Subtlety hand off a business card while walking past a hottie? Or just say “Hi, you’re cute” and pray he doesn’t think you’re stalker? MINDY, LET ME KNOW…asking for a friend.

I guess I don’t really hold it against her because despite seriously unrealistic ideations, I am still #TeamLahiri. Not only does she actually represent a positive body image in a world of human rakes, but she is probably one of the most relatable characters on television.

Exhibit A:

and…

or

Lol been there…

Like Mindy, I am often a little too brash, a little too chaotic and a little too into wine. And like our dramatic heroine I have not yet given up on ~love~. Sure, neither of us is a stranger to the one night stand and have had our fair share of setbacks (see any of my blog posts or seasons 1-5 of The Mindy Project)…But I honestly believe that one day all those mishaps will be fun anecdotes to share with the guy who’ll be foolish enough to love me (and Mindy) in spite of them.

So maybe there isn’t a line of guys waiting to date me if I act entitled and obnoxious. So what? This is a TV show after all, and I’m not sooo delusional that I’d take all my life lessons from a woman who’d eat a bear claw off of the streets of NYC. The crux of the matter is Mindy is unapologetically herself and inspirational to all of us looking to find our inner Beyonce Pad Thai warrior.

So cheers to Mindy, you’re a babe. I’ll let you sum up this post with my personal mantra for 2017. Can’t wait to see what shenaniganry we’ll both get up to this year…

Miranda here. Remember me? I’ve been MIA for a solid 8 months on this blog and I apologize profusely for that. Long story short- I took a 6 month hiatus from dating in general to focus on myself. There aren’t many stories to share other than a random hookup or two from a night out. However, just over a month ago I finally decided it was time to get back into the game the only way I really know how: Tinder.

I went on a couple dates and met a guy who I really liked but that ended just as quickly as it came (in typical Miranda fashion). Though, that can be a story for another time as the focal point of this post is what happened after and how I dealt with it. I was feeling pretty shitty and was trying to figure out the best way to recover. Cue the following weekend where for once in my life I had no solid evening plan which, if you know me personally, is a rarity as a self-proclaimed planning queen. I contemplated forcing plans onto friends to keep myself busy but then I was hit with a brilliant yet very un-Miranda-like plan. I decided this weekend would be for myself, by myself.

I was going to go out on my own Saturday night.

Yep, you read that right. A 20-something year old single girl going out in the 6ix alone. Sounds like a recipe for disaster? Probably but thank god those fears didn’t stop me.

I downed 2.5 drinks before I left for the night just to get a subtle buzz going and for liquid courage purposes. I then headed over to a neighbourhood dive bar where I was sure to meet interesting people. I walked in and it was disappointingly empty but I took a deep breath and sat at the empty bar and ordered myself a drink. 10 minutes in I had struck up casual conversation with the bartender/owner and the seats on other side of me were filled by two older men that seemed to be regulars of the establishment. I mustered up the courage and started speaking to both of them (neither of which I was actually interested in). You see, the goal of the night wasn’t necessarily to meet a guy to hook up with, but to learn to socialize with others without the social reliance of friends. I had some interesting conversations and learned that as my drunkenness progressed, it was time to get out of the dive bar and into an environment where I could dance.

I walked down the street to my favourite resto-bar and headed straight to the bar. Here, the men were much more attentive to me and I quickly received a few offers to do shots with them, which I happily obliged. But the night was young and I still wanted to dance and not get tied down to any guy so early on in the night, so I said my goodbyes and headed to the dance floor. Dancing on your own is a peculiar thing. It’s exhilarating and freeing, and I highly recommend more people to do it outside of the confines of their bedroom. Later on, I met a few more people and remained talking and dancing with them for the rest of the night. It was awesome witnessing so many strangers coming together and engaging like they had been friends forever when in fact their only commonality was the love of booze and conversation. I left the bar with free drinks in my stomach and two slices of pizza in my hands – which in my drunken eyes is always the sign of a good night.

I know it might seem a bit strange and erratic for any young woman to do something like this. Typically you hear of older lonely men hitting up bars on their own and being complete creeps. But it’s time to recognize that this is definitely an option for us. Trust me, I was a bit nervous going into it but I knew I had to do it for me. I was surprised how open people were to talking to me, and although some thought it was unusual it didn’t stop them from being friendly. It didn’t hurt that I was wearing a conversation inducing outfit either ;).

Key takeaway: if you’ve ever craved to go out alone and do your own thing go for it! Screw social norms and what’s expected of us – if you want to have fun and be the best version of you, there’s no one stopping you but yourself. It was an amazing and enlightening experience for me and definitely not the last time I’ll do this. It pushed me to socialize on a whole other level and to be content just being on my own. My only advice is to walk into the night with an open mind, be careful and tell some friends where you’ll be, and drink in moderation.

Make the 6ix your oyster!

If you try this out, please share your experience with us in the comments below!

We all wish we could strut into a dating situation with confidence soaring and heels stomping like a queen. Yet, for many ladies, creating this strong aura of confidence does not always come so easy. Some are just born with it, while others may find it harder to find their groove. This is completely normal. But unfortunately, if you struggle with confidence, it can sometimes suck the fire out of your romantic life. So, if you’re a self-believing woman who wants to own it in the dating world, here’s how to stop feeling insecure on dates.

Make him work for you

Make your date work for your approval, instead of desperately trying to win his. If you’re too eager to earn his thumbs-up, he’ll feel like you are inferior. Jumping through hoops will actually makes him lose interest because you’re doing all the chasing. After a few weeks, this power shift makes you feel insecure and less desirable.

So, the next time you find yourself on a date with a guy you like, try being more relaxed and invite him to work for your affections. Let him ask you more questions or flirt to seek your badge of approval.

Extinguish cockiness immediately!

Ever been on a date with guys who think they’re prince charming? These guys always find a way to mention their model ex or brag about how picky they are with looks, only to put themselves on a pedestal…ick! It’s vital for your confidence to avoid these clowns, but if you’re ever stuck on a date with one, you should learn to extinguish all that ego.

For example, he makes a cocky comment about how he rarely commits to a relationship status. Instead of sacrificing your security by wondering how you measure up to his standards, you should come back with a clever comeback about how you’re not concerned with tying him down in the foreseeable future. Ultimately, when nip his attitude right away, you avoid inflating his ego and bashing yours.

Believe you’re a prize

Knowing your value is the key to feeling confident on dates. If you genuinely believe in yourself, he’ll be more likely to want to invest his effort with you. It’s simply a matter of attracting vibes—people appear more desirable when they show self-belief; they exude an impressive aura that pulls in others.

To create this dynamic, you should date with the belief that you’re a prize who deserves to be pursued. Don’t be intimidated to openly show this attitude and make him see your self-love. Through this persona, you’re creating the reality that you’re someone who should be desired. Ultimately, whether he ends up chasing you or not, you should always date with confidence and grace.

Own it and don’t apologize

Never apologize for your dating goals. Many women worry about admitting that they want a relationship because they’re worried about scaring off the guy. Boo on him! This dating myth was likely concocted by jaded women with too many bad dates, who have spread these tales to prevent other women from falling into the same trap. Forget about the stories you’ve heard.

Hear these words: if a guy rejects you because you want commitment, he isn’t worth an ounce of your time, and the fault is his, not yours. Never apologize or feel bad for wanting the love, marriage and the whole nine yards. And never feel less secure about your dating goals just because a lousy jerk doesn’t share them.

Master other dating apps

When in doubt, try your luck on another dating app. If your current ones are hoarded with perverted selfies and commitment-probes, maybe it’s time to find something better. There’s so many guys out there who aren’t jerks and won’t leave you feeling insecure. Considering closing your account if you’re using hookup apps like POF and Tinder and try Match or WhoWinkedMe, which are great for people searching for love, magic and all the good stuff. Ultimately, whatever you’re looking for, you should focus on a dating app that can give you the right results.

– Rachel Esco is a lifestyle blogger based in Toronto, known for her spicy articles on dating, beauty and nightlife.

I originally was writing this as a 2-part tale about one crazy week of my life. However, due to circumstances you can read about below, this story extends past one week. So if you need a refresher you can find Part 1 here.

Wow, you’re back! Ok… uhm, I really wasn’t expecting this!

JK I knew you’d be back. Reading my posts is like passing by a car accident: it’s a damn mess but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

Now, where were we? Oh yes. I had recently hooked up with King of the Douchelords and was feeling pretty low. So I did what every girl does when her self-esteem is reeling…I looked for validation elsewhere. Now don’t you worry my friends, I am acutely aware of how dangerous this can be, we’ve all been in the situation where you’ll settle for anyone just to get some attention. So instead of hitting up an ex or another potential fkboi, I turned to an option who seemed like the anti-douchelord: Boston Boy.

He had been messaging me consistently since our first date, making me feel pretty rotten for not giving him the time of day when he seemed like a great guy. I invited him over the following Sunday, this time to hang out in a park outside my building. It may sound dramatic but I was a little “traumatized” by the incident with King Douchlord two days prior (Part 1), and that combined with our very meh hookup was enough motivation to try keep him away from my bedroom. He didn’t seem to mind though and we spent all afternoon lying in the sun, chatting and sharing (more than) a couple of kisses. It was really sweet and exactly what I needed: time spent with a decent guy who I didn’t feel any sort of pressure to be with…he was heading back to Boston in 4 days after all.

The following night, while home watching Bachelor in Paradise (#NoRagrets), he suggested coming over and I hesitantly agreed. I wasn’t down for another hookup that would leave me feeling anything but satisfied, but thankfully he did not disappoint. Our second hookup was significantly better than the first and it seems like he’d figured out how to use what (little) the good lord had given him. We hung out again the next night…I know, I know! 3 days in a row…take a chill pill amirite? He was leaving in two days anyway and we were having a lot of fun so it didn’t feel like normal rules applied.

I was glad I’d decided to give this fling a second chance, especially because this particular type works for me. When one person is local and the other is visiting it seems like the perfect opportunity for a successful fling as you can essentially do whatever you want without feeling like anything needs to be defined. The finish line is crystal clear from the get-go and for me and so many of my friends, the expectation of where something may lead is what mentally fucks with us the most. Between this guy and my love affair in Banff, I’m beginning to think I may be a spring fling queen.

It’s actually really interesting if you think about it. I am the most successful with relationships when I don’t need to worry about the end game. Is this evidence that I self-sabotage by prematurely assessing how something will pan out or does it say something more general about modern dating? When we stop the bullshit, stop the games and just get to know the person we’re interested in, it’s pretty easy to build an awesome connection. Conversely, when you add all that “who texted who first” crapola, it ruins everything. I saw Boston Boy 3 days in a friggen row…and yes, that is a little excessive, but I can’t even imagine doing that if he wasn’t going to be disappearing at the end of it all. #FlingLyfe has shown me that being honest with someone and just acting on what feels natural is the best way to experience something that’s enjoyable and stress-free. Sure, that seems intuitive…but try it in practice I dare you! It is WAY harder to act easy and breezy when you’re planning baby names in the back of your mind during a third date.

As usual I digress, and I’m sure you’re curious to hear how this whole thing played out. I was supposed to see him one more time before he left on Thursday and was happy to tie up my fling with a neat little bow. Well you know what they say about life right? It’s what happens when you’re busy making plans. His job got extended by a week giving us more opportunity to hang out and I saw him a number of times over the next week. Hell, my roommate’s boyfriend even met him.

Fast-forward to last night, I was set to see him once more as he left for Boston today, our 2-week fling-iversary #romancegoals. We met at his hotel and bar-hopped around the city sampling craft beers and apps for the next 5 hours. I’m not going to lie, after how awkwardly things had ended with my fling in Banff, I was nervous as to how my exit would go. Well, I’m happy to report that we have a fantastic night together and I left the hotel this morning with a kiss goodbye, my watch on my wrist (see Monsieur Formidable for reference) and zero awkwardness! He said he’d look me up if he was in town again and I was cool with that. I would also be cool if he didn’t look me up, but eh, that’s for Future Samantha to decide.

After discussing my night with Miranda this morning, she said she was surprised at how easily I could separate the emotional from the physical as I did spend a significant amount of time with this guy. I guess it must be because I was never really into him in that way. We got along great and feeling intimate with someone is generally nice, so it never felt like I had to separate my emotions, they just didn’t exist. I doubt that I would have continued hooking up with Boston Boy if he was local but that’s the beauty of this stage of life. We can make self-serving decisions, take risks and try things we wouldn’t otherwise all for the sake of having new experiences, both good and bad. All I can say is that the past 2 weeks have been a friggen whirlwind and that I’ve learned more about myself and relationships in 14 days than I have in the last couple of months. Baby steps people, baby steps.

Disclaimer: I am writing this as a two-parter for those of you who frankly don’t care enough about my love life to subject yourself to this much reading. For those of you who do stay the course, I thank you and God help me. Part 2 here: The Fling’s the Thing

It all started about a week ago with a guy I’d been talking to on tinder. We agreed to meet up so he came over and we sat on my terrace drinking wine and chatting. When hunger struck we grabbed a bite, which he willingly paid for, before heading back to my place. We had a great connection, sharing a lot in common and I really enjoyed his company. It seemed only natural that he’d stay the night, which he did, but the next morning I couldn’t help feeling underwhelmed, in all departments if you catch my drift.

As a consultant in town from Boston, he seemed like the perfect candidate for a fun little fling, but if I wasn’t interested in what this fling could offer then what was the point? Despite the okay hookup we kept chatting on and off but I wasn’t sure if I would see him again.

Fast forward to Friday night while out with some people from work. We were having a great time and I was vibing with this guy who I’d always thought was cute. He’d had a girlfriend till about a week prior but was now single so….I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Well, however you think this story ends, you’re probably wrong.

Cut to the next morning after he’d gone home. I recounted the details of the night to Miranda who’d been out with us only to realize they were pretty friggen horrendous. I remembered feeling insulted and uncomfortable a number of times the night before but became increasingly bothered as I spoke the deets out loud… A highlight reel of my night with king of the douchelords:

We hook up and I immediately get a speech all about how I need to be aware that this was just a hook up, he’d just gotten out of a long term relationship and how I wasn’t to try trap him in something. Uhm excuse me sir? Could you be more patronizing??? You cleeearly know nothing about me because if you did you’d understand that I don’t want anything from you either. But ok, whatever, guys give this speech all the time (as I would soon find out) so I let it slide.

We continue to hook up and I kiss him – as normal people do – only to be asked why I had done that when we had just clarified that our hookup was strictly physical. This is when I started to say WTF. I am not a prostitute and will absolutely kiss you if you’re in my bed, its part of the package deal. I can separate kissing from emotions and if you can’t then that’s your problem, not mine…Douche.

And finally, the piece de resistance: he actually tried snapchatting a post-coital pic of me to his friends! And his response to my protests? “Don’t worry; your boobs don’t have to be in it”. WOW, really? Thanks so much, you’re such a great guy!!!

If you can believe it he still had the audacity after all that to tell me that we should keep this between the two of us. Yea, cuz snapchat is a very private and intimate realm…Sorry bud, no can do, this is 100% going on my blog.

I couldn’t believe the rudeness of his behaviour, but you must remember that I was drunk too and ended up making a (BIG) mistake. He slept over – I did ask why the F he’d wanted to given his many rules about what “just a hook up” means – and we ended up hooking up again at 6:30 in the morning. He immediately ducked out to get ready for a noon brunch and….I know, I KNOW! Not only does that reasoning REEK of bullshit but I definitely shouldn’t have hooked up with him again. Uch, I never claimed to be innocent in this story.

Anyway, those are the main points I’m actually willing to share about this experience but let it be known that this isn’t an exhaustive list of his douchebaggey behaviour. Obviously, I was really upset about it the next day, at him but even more so at myself for not having more self-respect. I was used but I had let myself be used and that was a tough pill to swallow.

I ended up moping around for the entire next day, feeling cheap and pretty disappointed in myself until sometime in the afternoon Charlotte mentioned she’d come to a male-related epiphany over a laffa wrap. Well, I couldn’t find any decent middle-eastern food, but I did find some peace after a long walk and a seriously emo playlist, and decided I would just chalk it up to a shitty experience that didn’t have to define me.

I’ll pause here, so if you’re only interested in hearing about one of the worst hook ups of my life then feel free to stop reading. But if you’ve been paying attention and are wondering what happened to Boston Boy I suggest reading on, because my next post is when I stop being a hoe and start getting real. The Real World – Toronto Edition.